


Sleep Isn't All That Bad, Really

by HannahkinSkywalker



Series: What Would One Call A Relationship Between Two Psychotic Murderers? [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, crossover - Fandom
Genre: M/M, again self indulgence, because I like sleepy fics, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:14:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahkinSkywalker/pseuds/HannahkinSkywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master never sleeps. He doesn't need to, he's a Timelord. Of course, Jim doesn't see it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Isn't All That Bad, Really

This certainly didn’t happen often.

The Master had been antsy all day, fidgeting and snapping at the lightest little issue. Jim couldn’t understand why he was so distressed, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. Of course, they’d been going to bed every night in the usual fashion, but Jim never saw the Master actually asleep. Of course, Jim was a human. He still needed at least two hours sleep a night to function, while the Master could go for two weeks without stopping before he truly began to drop. He’d tried to subtly mention that perhaps sleep wouldn’t be too horrific an idea, but all he’d gotten in return was a crude snap and a fumbling, half-attempted apology after. Jim never said anything after that. His cold gaze said about as much as he needed to. He was hoping he’d be able to get through to the Timelord soon.

Well, he should have been far more specific when he decided ‘soon.’ Jim always had a habit of saying whatever he was thinking in the Master’s presence, no, not in that way. He’d simply state whatever interesting little nugget of information he’d discovered over the day. There was always something to say, but he’d started picking the subject of sleep and how it could help even those who didn’t seem to require much. He’d hoped it would at least begin to weigh on the Master’s mind, but it was always returned with a snide remark pointing out how little sleep his own frail human body got.

That was it, he’d decided. He knew the Master couldn’t take anything designed for humans, so he cast all thoughts of drugging the Timelord out of his mind, and tried to at least coax him to sit down on the sofa. It had been twelve days now, and even the Master must have known he was flagging. Jim was talking at him as usual, telling the Master about anything that came into his head. He mostly was creating images, explaining whatever he’d done over that day that the two of them would find interesting. The Master was in such a state; he hadn’t even noticed Jim had hold of his wrist, slowly and softly pressing just below the pulse point. Pressure points. That was Jim’s favourite skill. He’d always been small, pathetically so, and not quite as strong as the other kids growing up. When he was a little older, he had to learn to defend himself in proper ways, often without damaging himself. He would hurt himself should he actually try and fight, so he learnt pressure points. This way, he wouldn’t have to ever be too close, and he could work to get what he wanted. He’d also found over the years, that certain points of the body could not only initiate pain, but others could relax the rest of the body. He could feel the Master relaxing against him now, and his voice lowered until he realised whatever he was babbling about was falling on deaf ears.

He couldn’t help but give a small smirk as he gently lowered the Master to lie down. He wasn’t quite asleep yet, but practically there, teetering over the edge as he started to fall completely still, his breathing growing slow and even. He knew it was best to leave the Timelord alone to rest now, but he couldn’t help himself. Jim managed to find a book in relatively close reach, and enveloped himself in the story as he sat beside the Master. His hand ran absently through the Timelord’s short, blond hair, pulling away slightly when he stirred, before settling back down again. Jim wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, but two books and a cup of tea later the Master still had not stirred.

After a retrospectively stupid moment, Jim had decided that his breathing and heartbeats were completely normal, and that he shouldn’t have started to grow apprehensive. Jim decided maybe it was best to leave him for a while, but he still didn’t move. His eyes darted across the Timelord, taking in every little inch of him. There was no pain in his expression, no fear, no arrogance, or anything. It was strange, but still enjoyable to see he could look so peaceful and calm. It made a nice change. After another few moments of silence, Jim leant down, careful not to put his weight on the Master’s body, and pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

After everything, it seemed that had been enough to rouse the Timelord. He stirred slightly, shifting under Jim’s hold as the criminal began to move away. The Master’s brow furrowed when he realised what was going on. Then he _really_ realised what was going on and shot Jim a glare. “You complain when I don’t get any sleep, and when you force me into it you wake me up. Make up your mind.”

Jim couldn’t help but give a playful shrug, a look of innocence on his face. “Sorry, but that’s never going to happen.”


End file.
